Gemotions

The cracked screen of the departure board seemed to taunt Amelia. "DELAYED" blazed across the screen next to her flight number, a cruel crimson beacon. She slammed her fist on the armrest, the plastic groaning in protest. Her wedding, the one she’d planned for a year, was supposed to start in three hours. She’d envisioned the moment, the vows, the dancing – all of it, now potentially ruined. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, a physical manifestation of her mounting frustration.

The airline representative, a young man with a forced smile, offered a voucher for a complimentary sandwich. Amelia wanted to hurl the voucher back at him. Instead, she took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands clenching into fists. “Is there *anything* you can do to get me on a different flight? *Anything*?” Her voice was tight, barely controlled.

She stalked away from the gate, the knot in her stomach tightening with each step. The sterile air of the terminal seemed to suffocate her. She desperately wanted to scream.